


Danger

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [21]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Danger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two times Bucky reflects on Steve Rogers and his kick for danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> I stalled on my Kink List series because Danger seems really prevalent in Steve and Bucky's lives, but not necessarily something they would enjoy. It took me forever to find my way in. Here are two aspects of Danger as a kink for Steve Rogers. I would love to hear what you think!

“You shoulda heard what he called Mrs. Martinelli.”  
  
“They were after that stray in the alley behind Mahoney’s.”  
  
“He was bothering Suzy Perkins, even after she told him to get lost.”  
  
Steve always had an excuse when he picked a fight.  Bucky had seen it himself, the righteous anger that lit a fire inside Steve Rogers when his sense of justice was offended.  Bucky had to admit that Steve was always justified in his outrage, even if Bucky did think he took it a little too far. Bucky never had solid ground to stand on when he tried to get Steve to admit it: he enjoyed fighting.  He had a burning need to prove himself.  Steve denied it of course, always quick to point out the principle of the matter, whatever it was.    
  
But Bucky could see it — that flare of excitement, the moment when Steve’s chin would lift, and he would lock eyes with a bully, and call out some dignified statement of accusation.    
  
Bucky never loved Steve more than in those moments.  But at the same time, Bucky knew his best pal was a hotheaded little punk.    
  
Bucky was the one who had to wade in and clean up the messes Steve stirred up.  Bucky had no choice but to jump into the fight and turn the tide, because as much as Steve might deserve to own the high ground he’d staked out, he simply wasn’t physically strong enough to back it up. Sure, he sometimes took his opponent down a peg or two, baiting them till they were mad enough to spit, and then getting in a few lucky licks — but that almost never happened.  Usually, Steve came staggering home, bruised, cut and bleeding, and Bucky would clean him up at their kitchen sink as best he could, while Steve ranted on about what a creep the other guy was.  
  
The fact was, Steven Grant Rogers was a danger nut, and nothing Bucky could do was about to stop him.    
  
In all the years Bucky knew Steve, he never succeeded in getting Steve to walk away from a fight.  When war broke out, Bucky really wanted to believe the army would never let Steve in.  Not being flat footed was Steve’s only qualification for service —the list of his ailments was as long as Bucky’s arm.  Steve would have been a good soldier, as good an anyone, except for the numerous failures his body was all too ready to deal him.  The one good thing was that somehow, Steve had avoided contracting the tuberculosis that had killed his mother.  Pneumonia once or twice every winter, but at least it wasn’t TB.      
  
Bucky went off to serve his country (reluctantly, but dutifully), leaving Steve behind, just champing at the bit.   Bucky had that tiny bit of hope, that Steve wouldn’t get in.  He couldn’t picture Steve ever making it through basic, even as muleheaded as he was. In captivity at Azzano, the one thing that made the horror bearable was picturing Steve at home in Brooklyn, drawing comics and doing his bit for the war effort.  
  
It was a shock when Steve turned up, bulging with muscles like Johnny Weissmuller — but it wasn’t a shock when he threw a punch at a grinning death’s head.  That kind of stupid stunt had always been Steve’s bread and butter.  Yet this time, at least, Steve didn’t get knocked down.  He gave back as good as he got, maybe better.  The other guy turned tail and ran, and Steve practically carried Bucky out of the factory and into the woods, where Bucky finally got his feet under him.  
  
Steve leaned him up against a tree while they took a little breather.  “Jesus, Buck, am I glad to see you!”    
  
Bucky stared wide eyed at this big man, a whole inch taller than himself, with Steve’s earnest eyes and a lantern jaw.    
  
“Likewise, pal,” Bucky muttered.  He was still wrapping his head around it.  Steve had been safe at home in Brooklyn, so Bucky thought, and here he was, Captain America.  How?  
  
Bucky guessed it didn’t really matter how.  Steve was grinning at him like a house on fire, bright blue eyes and teeth shining in the moonlight.  
  
Then Steve was laughing, or maybe it was crying.  “They told me you were dead.  They weren’t even trying to find you.  I went AWOL, Bucky. I couldn’t help it, I hadta.”  
  
“Well, I’m pretty glad you did,” Bucky said.  “Me and a lotta other guys.”  
  
“You,” Steve whispered.  “It was you I hadta find.  You I had to go after.  The 107th captured, but the thing was, it was you.”  
  
Bucky stared at Steve, peering at him through the darkness.  Steve was shining. His fine blond hair was thick now, golden, multiplying the scattered rays of moonlight.  His eyes were on fire.  Bucky felt the heat of Steve pressed up against him — an old habit, Bucky sharing  heat with his buddy with the bad circulation.  Now the tables were turned — Bucky still shaking off the deathly chill of the lab table they’d strapped him to — while Steve had gone through some miracle process that turned him into some kind of god.    
  
“It is permanent?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask, and he didn’t know how he felt about the answer.    
  
Steve was still staring at him, and Bucky wasn’t looking away.  Steve was getting closer.  Bucky held still.    
  
They were sharing breath.  
  
Their lips touched.    
  
For a moment their lips fluttered against one another, like moths in the silver moonlight.  
  
Then they crashed together, all the adrenaline of the fight and the flight flooding through their veins.  Bucky felt Steve gripping his arms, just above the elbow, and maybe it hurt, but Bucky couldn’t feel it.  All he felt was the fire of Steve’s thighs, pressing against his, pushing him back against the tree.  Steve was fighting him, but not to be mean…  
  
Steve was fighting him, goading him, challenging.  Every probe of the tip of Steve’s tongue, every quiver of his questing lips, Bucky knew.  He’d spent his whole life learning how Steve would kiss, without ever knowing what he was learning.  Now he felt it, and it was amazing.  Steve took Bucky over, led him from one mood to the next, expertly turning Bucky’s world upside down.    
  
Bucky Barnes, Brooklyn’s own Beau Brummell — turned around by little Stevie.  No one had ever guessed.    
  
Desperately Bucky strained his ears against the sounds of the woods.  All he could hear was wind rattling through the tree limbs, the occasional call of a night bird.    
  
“Don’t worry,” Steve muttered.  “I’ll hear them coming,” he said, reading Bucky’s mind.  
  
“I ain’t worried,” Bucky denied, but he was, a little.    
  
They had messed around some, back home, but only once in a while, in a way that made Bucky ache, sad and longing for more. He knew very well how the world was stacked against them, how they were meant to find girls, settle down, have kids, et cetera, et cetera.  Bucky never wanted any of that.  He only, ever, always wanted Steve.  He was willing to play along with whatever Steve wanted, but he knew how much it would hurt when Steve clapped him gamely on the shoulder and let him go.  
  
Bucky kissed Steve harder.  If anyone walked up on them, so be it.  Could the army really give Captain America a blue ticket — right after he blew up a major Hydra installation and rescued hundreds of Allied soldiers?     
  
Steve settled in against Bucky, holding him up against the tree.  They were perfectly aligned, and it felt so good.    
  
“Bucky, you gonna let me bring you off?”  Steve said, thrusting his hips against Bucky’s.    
  
“An hour ago I was dead to the world on a steel lab table,” Bucky gasped.  “So don’t get offended if it doesn’t go as well as you hoped.”  
  
“I’ll be gentle,” Steve said.  “But I’m not sure I know my own strength.”  
  
Steve was solid as a rock, and Bucky felt the power in every limb.   “I wanna know,” Bucky said.  “Show me.”  
  
Steve took over the kisses, holding Bucky’s face in his hands.  Those big hands, they were just the same, but so strong now. Steve kissed Bucky, drinking him in, intoxicating him with the sweetness of his breath.    
  
“Stevie,” Bucky begged.  “Hey, touch me, can you?”  
  
Steve rutted harder against him, pinning him to the tree.  Bucky squirmed a little and a needy sound came out of him that he couldn’t quite keep inside.  
  
“Okay, Buck,” Steve said, and didn’t waste another second —  he undid Bucky’s belt, licked his hand, and stuck it down the front of Bucky’s pants, taking Bucky into his palm.    
  
Bucky groaned and his hips jumped forward, pumping his cock into Steve’s loose grip.  God, it felt so good, after so long!  
  
“Sh,” Steve said.  “Not too loud…”  
  
Bucky panted into Steve’s neck.  God, it felt so good, he didn’t want it to end.  But he couldn’t last, even in the cold, in the dark, where another soldier might crash through the trees at any second…  
  
And he realized it was turning Steve on.  Steve was hard against Bucky’s thigh, riding him a little as he took him in his hand.  While he was kissing Bucky, bringing him off, he had both ears open for anyone who might stumble across them as everyone escaped….  
  
And that was another thing — the men would be looking for the idiot with the target for a shield who’d gotten them out.  And if they found him, it would be here, against this tree, with his hand down Bucky Barnes’s pants.  
  
“Steve,” Bucky moaned.  It felt so good, but he wasn’t the one who liked it this way, he wasn’t the one who got off on danger.  That was Steve, and Steve was doing fine, just rutting against Bucky’s leg and burying his nose in Bucky’s hair.  
  
“Bucky, Bucky,” Steve murmured.  “I knew you were alive. You just had to be.  I couldn’t let you go without … God, you smell so good — you been in that stinking hell hole for days, how do you still smell just like you?”  
  
“I guess I just naturally stink,” Bucky gasped.    
  
“Ha, maybe,” Steve laughed.  “They oughta put your stink in a bottle then.” Steve stuck his nose further back behind Bucky’s ear and breathed in deep. “God, it goes to my head.  You smell so good.  I love you so much.”  
  
Bucky was stunned.  It wasn’t the kind of thing they said to each other.  They were supposed to be like brothers.  That’s what they said out loud, to each other, when things between them got out of control, and they had to cool down and try to rein it in again.    
  
“I love you too,” Bucky said, fast, to get it out there.  
  
Steve was jacking him slower and slower, drawing it out, his grip so loose.    
  
“I had to find you,” he said, “I had to let you know, what you mean to me.  When you were in basic, I just… I was so desperate to go with you… it wasn’t just about joining up… I know that’s what you thought it was to me… “  
  
Bucky couldn’t think.  Steve’s grip on him, the feel of the rough bark poking him in the back through his worn out henley, the cold night air making him shiver, in contrast to the incredible heat coming off of Steve….  
  
“Stevie, please, just — “ Bucky begged.  “I’m so close.”  
  
“Shh,” Steve said, slowing down even more. “I gotcha, now.  I gotcha.” His big hand moved so slow, so gentle, it made Bucky feel like he was losing his mind.    
  
“Give it to me,” Steve said in his ear.  “Give it to me, Bucky.” That deep voice sank down inside him, shaking him apart.  He felt himself surrender…. all the parts of him that had been holding out so long against the torture and the deprivation, being strong for his men, not showing any weakness…. everything fell apart as Steve held him up there, moving his hand so slow and tender… nothing had been soft or sweet for so very long…    
  
“I love you Buck, I gotcha now,” Steve said, and Bucky let go.  It felt like falling, dropping through the darkness, straining his throat to keep quiet as heat poured out of him and fireworks sang behind his eyes.    
  
Steve held him there as he shook and trembled, until his breath steadied.  Steve pulled out a hankie — a nicely folded handkerchief in his coat pocket, after everything! — and cleaned Bucky off.   The hankie had Captain America’s shield embroidered in the corner.  
  
Steve laughed when he saw Bucky take note of the detail.  “The fans love Captain America.”  
  
“Nice,” Bucky said.    
  
“Hey,” Steve said, after a breath.  “I mean it.  What I said.  I just got to thinking while you were gone, what if I never got the chance to tell you…”  
  
“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky said.  “I know.   The war has a way of bringing out what really matters.”  
  
“You really matter, to me,” Steve said.  
  
“And here I was thinking you just wondered what would happen if Captain America got caught in compromising circumstances.”  
  
Steve’s blue eyes lit up, and his mouth fell open in mock outrage, but he didn’t deny it.  “Well, Mr. Barnes, I never!”  
  
He pulled Bucky off the tree, set him straight, and dusted him off.  “Filthy, but alive, and that’s what matters. Let’s get a move on, Bucky, find the rest of the men.”  
  
Just a hundred yards away, in a clearing, Bucky introduced Steve to Jacques Dernier and Gabe Jones.  Bucky glanced at Steve to see if he knew how close the other men had been, and by the corners of Steve’s mouth, he’d known all along.  


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve still gets off on danger, but Bucky understands a little better.

  
  
So many heartbreaks and decades later, another quarter of the globe…  
  
“I have a confession,” Steve said.  
  
“How long since your last confession?” Bucky asked.  
  
“Seventy-two years?” Steve said. “Anyway it’s not that kind of confession.”  
  
“Oh?” Bucky said. “Well, spill it.”  
  
Steve cuddled closer, naked against him under the sheet.    
  
“I’m kind of ashamed,” Steve said.  “I’m afraid you’ll be appalled.  I mean, I’m a little bit appalled myself. So.”  
  
“Just spill it, pal, you’re worrying me,” Bucky said.    
  
“The way you look when you fight — it’s really hot,” Steve said.  Sure enough, he was blushing — even though it was dark, Bucky could feel the temperature change in his skin.  
  
“Oh,” Bucky said.  “Well.  I’ll take it as a compliment? Except about the bit where I’m appalling?”  
  
“No!” Steve said. “You’re not appalling!  I’m just… it’s so hot when you get all, you know, murder face.  You start striding around, you get all big and dangerous, and….”  
  
Bucky started to laugh.  “Oh, okay, yeah.  I get it now.  The danger thing always got you riled up.  So now I’m dangerous and that’s so hot for you, huh?”  
  
“But that’s why it’s bad…” Steve whined, still blushing. “They made you into a weapon.  That’s not hot.  That’s horrifying.”  
  
“The things they did to me were awful, and the things they used the Soldier to do were atrocities.  But me — hey, I’m gorgeous. I’m a work of art,” Bucky said. “Not even to mention the arm.”  
  
Bucky stuck his arm up out of bed and rotated it.  Steve could see it clearly in the dim light of their room. “It’s a great arm,” Steve said truthfully.  Bucky’s new vibranium arm was possibly even more beautiful than his old one had been, matte black where the old one had been gleaming silver. The material looked like T’Challa’s suit, but the sculpting matched Bucky’s other arm perfectly.    
  
“You want to get off on my arm? It’s pretty dangerous,” Bucky said.  
  
“God, Bucky! No!  It’s not hot when you talk about it…. it’s hot when you’re in action….” Steve said.  
  
“So you get hard for my murder face,” Bucky said, and deliberately stared straight up at the ceiling, drawing his brows down a little.    
  
“Oh my god, no!  cut it out!!” Steve shouted, laughing. “I’m trying to ‘share.’”  
  
“You’re hopeless,” Bucky said. “The standards and mores of a bygone era have you in their toothless grip.”  
  
“Ugh,” Steve said.  “The mores of my youth are drooling all over my bed.  Jerk, I’m just trying to tell you how hot you are.”  
  
“I know how hot I am. The Red Room trained me on it.”  
  
“Jesus Christ!“ Steve exclaimed.  “That’s exactly why I’m appalled at myself!”  
  
Bucky sighed and pulled his husband closer.  “Let’s take another stab at this, shall we?”  
  
“Okay,” Steve sighed, pouting.  
  
“Natasha,” Bucky said.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve said, immediately getting the point.  
  
“Objectively you have to state, just looking at her, she’s the cat’s meow.”  
  
“Mmm,” Steve admitted.  
  
“There’s no choice but to admit, she is hot.  It’s a fact.”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve said.  
  
“Why so reluctant?” Bucky asked.  
  
“Because Natasha!  It’s just a job to her, it’s how they trained her to be.  I love her, but as a friend.  I don’t want to be one of those creepy Avengers fanboys that just lurk around the Tower hoping to get a glimpse of her.”  
  
“You got fans of your own, pal,” Bucky muttered, pointing out the obvious.  
  
“I know it!” Steve said.  “See, that’s exactly it!  I’m like one of those fanboys, of you!”  
  
Steve triumphantly poked Bucky in the chest, not hard, but enough to make him say ow.  
  
“Ow,” Bucky dutifully said.  “No, the Natasha thing is the proof, okay? If you were just a fan jazzed up for my murder face, then you wouldn’t be appalled at yourself.  You don’t think about Natasha like that because you can see who she is, inside — you can see the difference between her real emotions and desires and the appearances she puts on to get the job done.”  
  
“But when you get the job done… “ Steve whispered.  
  
“You like it.  You always did.  I remember.  Even all the way back, when you were just a punk taking on the world, you always liked it.  That wasn’t Hydra making me punch those jerks — that was you.  And you liked it.”  
  
“I’m sorry!” Steve wailed.  
  
“No, you ain’t!”  Bucky denied.  “You ain’t sorry, not a bit.  You loved it, when you took em on, and I rolled in and helped you take em down.  You always loved that.  Admit it.”  
  
“I admit it,” Steve said, more confidently that time.  
  
“So now, it’s just the same.  It’s not the Winter Soldier’s murder face you love, it’s your Sergeant, Bucky Barnes.  Just a little more murder face than I was back in the old days.”  
  
“I love your face, murder or no murder,” Steve said.  “And your swagger.  Your moves.  It’s like when I used to watch you dance.  Now I watch you fight, and it’s just that beautiful.”  
  
“Come over here and tell me how beautiful,” Bucky said.    
  
“Fucking glorious,” Steve whispered.  “So much power, so much grace — so deadly.  Fighting against you was the hardest thing I ever did — and that was before I even knew who you were — and I still had to just admire you — the fucking onslaught of you.”  
  
“mm” Bucky said.  It had taken a lot of therapy for him, to accept the Winter Soldier skill set as a part of himself, to be proud of, separate from the crimes Hydra had used him to commit.  Even now, despite his nonchalance, it was a little hard to hear Steve praise the Soldier’s violence.  
  
“It’s not fighting you, though — it’s fighting next to you. Feeling where you are.  Flowing together, side by side, like we do.  And then, just catching a glimpse of you — it’s like a reflection of part of myself….”  
  
Bucky swallowed.  That part he understood. No one but Bucky himself had grown up fighting side by side with that scrappy kid.  Agent Carter had recognized the warrior’s heart in Steve — but Bucky knew Steve’s heart maybe better than he knew his own. Nothing was more natural to Bucky than fighting by Steve’s side; it was where he’d always been, where his heart had been the happiest.    
  
“So, you’re not appalled?” Steve said.  
  
“Nah,” Bucky said. “You can’t help it, I’m super duper.”  
  
“That you are,” Steve said, and kissed him, and that was the end of the discussion. 


End file.
